Twisted Perfection
by Glitterpoison
Summary: Kaetlyn is the young Baroness of Willowbrook. She is bound to the house her horrible stepmother and stepsisters rule because she was cursed with a twisted foot...will she ever live happily ever after?....lol, that sounds so serious
1. Prologue

_Twisted Perfection_

_Prologue_

_My name is Kaetlyn. I am the only daughter of a well-loved baron and beautiful countess who wedded many nights ago in the middle of winter. My mother, the Countess Gwenhyfar LeRase was fair with chocolate-brown hair and pale green-grey eyes and a golden countenance. My father, Lord Byron Dewer of Willowbrook was pale as well, but unlike the sunny Countess, had dangerous mood swings that could send him from cheerfully happy to angry and cold within a heartbeat. The only time I can remember him truly happy without the worry of a mood swing,was when he was with my mother.The servants used to whisper that it came from his rumored vampyric ancestry, and when I became older, it became more obvious to me through the steel grey of his eyes and the violence in his nature that he bore the crul blood of Vampyres._

_I was born on a cold and chilly morning in autumn, the sun barely showing above the beautiful apple orchards that have always dotted our land. I was born squalling and red and too small; my father seriously considered setting me out in the chill, but my mother pleaded with him for my life, despite my twisted foot, for yes, I was born witha terrible affliction that keeps me bound to this accursed house. When I was born, my right foot was twisted, toes turned into my arch and my ankle slightly lopsided; I've always walked with a limp, without the grace the other girls of nobility take for granted._

_When I was young, five or six, my mother took ill with the plague that was sweeping through the country at the time and died, leaving me with my grieving father. The only thing she left me were memories of her love and a lock of her beautiful hair.When I grew older, I used to hold that hair next to mine, craving any resemblance to her famed beauty. Eventually, my hair became an almost identical match to it, thick and curling like the Lady Gwen's._

_I resemble her in many ways, just like so many other daughters of my blood, for my mother was of fae and mortal descent. It showed in me through the softness in my face, the dark of my skin and smallness of my own body. My father shows in me as well, though, my silver eyes the same cold shade as his and every once in a while I heard the small rumor of something about our airs when he was happy that was alike to mine. But my mother shone more, and that was what caused his fall. Our fall._

_It's the reason the Duchess Eliza of Wren was brought into my life._


	2. The attic and the stepfamily

**_Twisted perfection_**

**_Chapter I_**

_The attic and the stepfamily_

Kaetlyn stood quietly, leaning her worn body against the harsh stonework of the chimney that lay in the middle of the kitchen. Around her, her two step sisters pranced about, their beautiful gowns so tailored that they barely touched their heels, much less dragged through the ash and powder that had covered the kitchen floor ever since Kaetlyn could remember. Slowly easing from her leaning-post, she swept the ever present ash from her dress as best she could, watching as the her elder step-sister, Brigitte, approached her, perfect nose sticking proudlyup in the air.

"Cinderlyn, where are the breakfasts? Did I not ask for them thirty minutes ago?" she asked, sweeping a strand of deep reddish-brown hair off her face and behind her ear. She raised an arched brow andKaetlyn felt her face grow hot, realizing that she had forgotten. _'How could I have forgotten their _breakfasts?'

"I'm sorry, Brigitte, I-"

"Enough, wench! To you, it's madam, and obviously you seem to be under the mistaken impression that you don't have to help around here. Let me set you straight once again, that's not the way things are run. Am I right, Christine?" she turned to her younger sister andChristine quickly removed her finger from where a small bowl of frosting sat, ready for the cake that was to baked for the dinner party the Duchess of Fren and Kaetlyn's father were having later that evening.

"Of course, Gitta," she said hurriedly, straightening her pale blue gown and stepping over to where Kaetlyn slouched before them, both girls toweringat least six inches above her. Christine reached up, tossing her long, looseand longred hair off of her shoulders and smirking at the small and glowering Kaetlyn.

"I expect my usual breakfast of an english muffin, egg over-easy and three sausage-links- rare. And Christine will need breakfast, too...so I expect both out there in five minutes, hot and ready to be eaten or there will be punishment." Kaetlyn nodded slowly, sweeping a hand through her dirt-covered hair and feeling the familiar knot of anger and hurt in her stomach tighten.

"Oh, Cinderlyn," Christine called as she began to follow her sister out of the kitchen, "In case your puny, almost non-existent mind can't remember, my breakfast is _my _usual of a small glass of fresh grapefruit juice and two slices of unbuttered brown bread lightly toasted. Forget it, any of it, and I assure youthat I won't hesitate to report to my mother and have her kick your sorry ass out of here," at the word 'ass', Christine dropped her voice down like a child barely weaned and worried about her nurse hearing her saya word unsuitable for a ladyand whipping her until her back was as dark red as her hair. At that thought, Kaetlyn had to lean on her crippled foot to keep from laughing.

"Aye, madam."

"I think I'll have you call me Miss. Madame is much too fancyfor my humble and caring standards," Christine said and Kaetlyn was almost convinced she was joking until she caught sight of Christine's serious face. _'Humble? Caring? Sure, maybe compared to a mass torturer.'_

And turning back to where the pantry door and stove were, Kaetlyn began the work required to get her stepfamily's breakfast done.

* * *

Kaetlyn limped out to the formal dining room, very obviously ten minutes late, and went around the long table (it seated over a hundred) to where the Duchess Eliza sat at the head, her two daughters on either side of her. Eliza was fuming and both Christine and Brigitte had looks of boredom etched on their pretty faces. 

"You're late, you clumsy, one-footed wench!" Duchess Eliza shrieked suddenly as Kaetlyn approached them, setting the trays of food on the table. Lost in her own thoughts, the shriek suprised kaetlyn so much that she jumped, falling backwards onto her rump and allowing her legs to be seen from mid-calf down.

"Cover that disgusting thing, you handicapped half-wit...your lucky your father's a kind-hearted man or else you would've been dead the very day that you damned the world with your putrid breath! Get up and clean yourself...you'll be serving us this evening at the party," Eliza yelled, turning away and ignoring the steaming tears that leaked out of Kaetlyn involuntarily at the sound of her affliction being mocked-yet again.

Rising as fast as she could on her mangled limb, she left the room, limping up the stairs to where her small alcove in the attic was. Eliza didn't believe in the unpaid servents costing her any extra money than required and Kaetlyn was forced to live with a blanket that had once been thick but now was bordering thread-bare, a pillow that was her clean set of clothes rolled into a ball and a nightgown that was her sooty and cinder-filled dirty clothes. In fact, that was where her name came from. One morning after staying up all night cleaning the kitchen of soot, Kaetlyn had brought her stepfamily out a breakfast of creamy porridge with orange slices and thick, buttery toast (this was before Christine had begun her 'diet'). But as she was carrying the food to her family, a smattering of ash fell out of her loose hair andinto Brigitte's porridge, causing Brigitte to throw a tantrum andsend the bowl of contaminated porridge into Kaetlyn's dark hair. And along with that, Kaetlyn earned ten lashes with the beech-wood whip, a new name and habit of wearing a handkerchief whenever she served the Duchess and her spawn.

But, despite her servitude, Kaetlyn was still a typical maiden, in most senses. She was as vain about her hair as many of the other noble-bred girls were vain about their gowns or skin, though her hair hadn't been in any kind of showcasing condition since before the Duchess had come. Unconciously, she raised her hand to a small, slightly raised scar on the back of her neck from where the Duchess had sliced of her hair in a fit of rage, taking a little of the skin with it. Finally reaching the fourth floor, Kaetlyn pushed open the small door that kept the upper wing closed off to the rest of the house.

Looking into the attic was like looking into an empty ballroom; it was absolutely huge. The place where Kaetlyn slept was at the far end and walking over to it required that she pass the many hidden stair cases, fireplaces, alcoves and dumbwaitersthat were lodged there. There were supposedly five secret passageways in the castle leading away from the grounds, four for each floor and an extra one hidden on one of the floors. Her father had told her (before he became too bewitched by the Duchess) that they had been used many years ago whenever the common people had overthrown the monarchy and this castle had been used asa sort of hideout for fleeing nobles. The commoners' government had failed, though, and now any talk of a rebellion or stowaways were only used in a past tense, and even then sparingly. The King and Queen (and their three children) feared any talk of rebellion or overthrowing of the government..._'Well, I guess I can't blame them...' _Kaetlyn thought mildly, finally reaching her little pallet.

She collapsed onto her small blanket, foot already aching from the cold of the upsairs serving rooms. She lay back, her eyes staring up at the ceilings that used to filled with the shadows of hearth fires and candles, the beams that used to bear witness to thelove and caringthe servants bore towards each other and to their favorite mistress, their Miss Lyn as she was known to them when she was younger. Shutting her light eyes, she imagined the room when it had still been full of people. Kaetlyn could remember coming down here whenever her father had been to harsh on her and having the second-in-command only to 'Miss Lyn' and 'Master Dewer', Linda, gather her up in herdark arms, wiping away the tears that always accompanied these visits.

Linda had been a beautiful woman, her thick dark hair always kept behind a colorful bandanna and her sparling black eyes shining out from her olive-toned face. Lindahad beenKaetlyn's best friend until the day the Duchess of Wren came and Linda had been sent away. The Lord of Willowbrook had always been prosperous, but with his new wife's expensive tastes, it soon became too much money to keep the many servants that had once been the majority of the population at the estate. By the time Kaetlyn reached eleven, most of the servants had been let go, the few left being the cook, manservant, three maidservants for the witches themselves anda stablehand who was replaced every summer. The bulk of the remaining work went to Kaetlyn, who could go nowhere else, even if she had the opportunity to.

Eliza had banished Kaetlyn up to the lonely servants quarters after they had been evacuated of their previous occupants and left bare of warmth and love. Now,eleven years after her father's marriage to that witch andten after her entrance into a life of servitude, Kaetlyn had to strain her brain to even get a wisp of the happy memories of her formerlife. She applied herself to that task now, gathering up those happy memories and surrounding herself in the warmth and hope, drifting off to sleep at the same time.

* * *

"Cinderlyn," a voice called from far away, wafting through Kaetlyn's voice like a voice from another realm. "Cinderlyn!" Nope. The only other realm that voice could be from is hell.

"Cinderlyn, wake up, you wench," Kaetlyn jumped awake, her eyes shooting open as she took in Brigitte, swathed in pale green fabric, hair fixed and make-up done and realized she had overslept the time she had unconciously set inher mind. Jumping off her blanket, she watched warily as Brigitte approached her and the only sounds in the entire room was the sound Brigitte's clicking green heels.

"What have you been doing up here, wench?" Brigitte hissed as she approached Kaetlyn.

"Well, I-" Kaetlyn began hurriedly.

"No," Brigitte interrupted, her hand slapping across Kaetlyn within a second of her beginning explanation, "I speak. You don't. Understand? My poor mother has been yelling for you for at least ten minutes now while you lay around up here _resting _and I have to drag my poor tired self up here," Brigitte took a momentary pause and a deep breath, "Down! Now! Mother will give you your instructions for the rest of the evening.

As she stomped away, Kaetlyn sighed quietly, lest she cause another slap from Brigitte and looked out the window above, smiling a little at the sun that shone through the bottom of the window.

* * *

_**biancarobinson:** thank you for the review and it's so nice to hear such loverly reviews...enjoy!_

_**Livdarcy:** well, I've updated! Check it out and I hope you review_

_**Ardelis Mercy:** umhmm...tis a cinderella story...I love writing it...but really, I am so dissapointed you haven't written lately!_

_Well...I hope you enjoy! I love reviews but not as much as I love the fact that you read my stuff so...once again enjoy!_

_±Glitterpoison±_


End file.
